Frankie Elk 2008

It was a dark and stormy night; the snow fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the side of Dennis Hump (for it is in northern Colorado that our scene lies), rattling along the pine beetle infested treetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty light of the six LED lamps that struggled against the darkness.

Hours before Frank lying in ambush on the precipice of a ten year destiny had methodically dispatched the large lactating matron of the herd. Old Jim with the skill of an outlaw had coerced three animals into the kill zone of the valley far, far below. Frank, snickers on his breath saw to it with a single double lung shot the three had become two.

Dinner and the warmth of camp beckoned, but the task of removing the animal from the forest was still before us. Time, strength and wills slipped away. Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering Elk; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee and since neither can be mine, let me then cut thee to pieces and hang thee in a tree. Tomorrow beckons another day.